ME3: The Lost
by taviastrife
Summary: Predictions of the many possible grave decisions to come in Mass Effect 3.  Shepard had to follow orders which killed a few but potentially saved millions.


Shepard was leaning her elbows on the railing that surrounded the holographic image of the Normandy on the command deck. Her hands were wrapped tightly behind her head to the point where her knuckles were turning white. Her body felt heavy, and her eyelids insisted on shutting on their own. She could barely register what Miranda was yelling. Her voice sounded as if she was deep in a cave and it was echoing out the entrance.

_Kasumi… Jacob… Grunt… Legion… Jack… Tali… Gar-_

_Oh God… Garrus…_

The Cerberus Operative wouldn't stop. Through her daze, Shepard could faintly hear other voices chiming in, trying to defend the mission and her decisions. After what had just happened down there, the Commander didn't really care. All she knew was that the yelling wasn't ceasing.

Miranda kept persisting that the mission had been a mistake to take on to begin with.

_What would you have done differently?_

She fumed that it hadn't been worth the risk.

_It's a chance to stop the Reapers…_

She stated how it had been an obvious trap.

_I… I know…_

She accused the Commander of being too trusting.

_I know!_

"If it hadn't been for her acting as a 'yes-man' for the Council, none of this would have happened," Miranda said with a scowl on her face.

"Impossible to predict Cerberus involvement. Accusatory nature uncalled for!" Mordin replied pointedly.

"There was no evidence of them being there when we arrived," Thane added.

Samara remained silent amongst them with an expressionless countenance, merely observing Shepard from afar. She could notice the anger building as the Commander shifted her weight from one leg to another, trying desperately to retain a calm exterior.

Miranda crossed her arms about her chest, shaking her head. "That doesn't matter! It doesn't change the fact that what we did was careless, and we paid for it. This-"

Shepard suddenly slammed her fists down as hard as she could on the metal railing, causing everyone to instantly turn their gazes onto her. **"I don't want to hear another word from you, Miranda!"** she yelled, nearly brandishing her fist in the woman's face. "If you don't like the way I'm running things, then you're free to get the hell off this ship!"

"You finally decide to say something…" Miranda remarked, her anger rising with every word. "Where _exactly_ would I go… Commander?"

"Go to the cesspool Omega. Go to Illium. Hell, I don't even care if you go back to Cerberus and become the right-hand of the Illusive Man! Because, one thing I don't need right now is someone lecturing me!"

"Apparently you do, Shepard! If you would have listened in the first-"

"What the hell do you want from me, Miranda? I know what I did; I gave the order myself! I sent practically my entire team down there to die, and for what?" Shepard fumed, turning away from Miranda, throwing her arms in the air in frustration. "For a damn artifact that we know nothing about – we don't even know if it will help stop the Reapers! So, what are you trying to say, Miranda? That I screwed up; that I killed them all for nothing? If that's it, don't bother, because I already know!"

"Shepard…" Samara's voice trailed off.

The Commander turned around to face Miranda directly. "I sent them down there… with barely any intel whatsoever. I followed the damned orders of the Council and Alliance Command," her volume began to rise as she clenched her fist, but faded as she let out a sigh. "And, I… failed them…" She shook her head, looking away, whispering, "Just like Akuze…"

There was a hush that crossed the room as the others absorbed Shepard's solemn resignation. With his hands behind his back, Thane bowed his head and closed his eyes. Samara looked to the floor, and Mordin stared at Shepard as if examining her every movement. Even Miranda seemed taken aback by the Commander's sudden display of heated emotion. She appeared like she was reconsidering her former words as being too harsh.

They were survivors of a mission gone awry by the arrival of Cerberus agents. The agents had intercepted the second assault team's attempt in getting to the rendezvous point. The reinforcements arriving every second had begun to overwhelm them, and Shepard had been forced to make one of the hardest decisions of her life. She had given the order to disembark without the second team aboard.

They had been there, and they had seen it. In a small way, they knew what Shepard was going through.

"I…" Shepard finally said, breaking the looming silence. She looked directly into Miranda's eyes. "If you don't feel like I can properly lead this team, or if you don't feel secure under my command, then you're free to leave." She turned to the others. "All of you." Seeing that no reply was forthcoming from any of them, she made her way over to the elevator and retired to her quarters.

* * *

><p>Shepard strolled into the Captain's cabin at the loft of the ship, stopping at the edge of the few steps that would lead her down to the bed. Resting her hip on the desk beside her, her eyes glanced about the room, searching for nothing in particular. It felt as if her mind couldn't focus properly on any one subject, her thoughts flicking from one thing to another. The report she needed to give to the Alliance and the Council, Miranda's yelling, the Cerberus agents arriving, the gunfire, Akuze and the screaming of her comrades, her ordering to fall back, the recovering of the artifact, the Reapers invading, the yelling over com-channels—everything felt jumbled to the point where it was overwhelming her.<p>

As she was about to place her right hand down on the desk for support, it brushed against a metallic object, bringing her dizziness slightly under control. She slowly glanced down at her old N7 helmet, which she had worn when she had been stranded out in space. The glass shielding on it was severely cracked, and there were scorch marks all over its surface.

When she had seen the first Normandy crumble in flames before her eyes, she had known that her time had finally come. Yet, she had refused to give up even then. She had fought futilely to draw air into her lungs as she had been pulled toward a lone planet. She had struggled endlessly to cease the oxygen leak, and she had tried to force herself to remain conscious, even if it had been to no avail. The only thing that had stopped her from fighting was her body shutting down into a coma.

"I didn't give up…" she murmured, her hand running across the rough surface. It was the symbol of her survival—of her efforts against impossible odds. Its scars represented her perseverance through harshness that surrounded her every single day.

"I didn't give up… until now…" The sight of the helmet rapidly began to stir anger deep inside her. She had turned her back on everything this object stood for. The enemy had won on the last mission—she had let them win. She had stopped fighting.

Taking hold of the helmet with a firm grasp, the Commander lifted it above her head and threw it as hard as she was able. Bouncing off the wall above her bed, it crashed down onto the lamp atop the nightstand. The bulb smashed almost instantaneously, sending sparks in the air before becoming dark. The helmet's flight came to an end as it landed on the floor and gradually rolled to a halt.

Wringing her hands in front of her, Shepard leaned on the side of her desk, trying to calm her intense breathing. It made her feel better—only to some degree, though. As her emotions came under control, she noticed a figure in her peripheral vision. Taking a closer look revealed Samara standing in the doorway. The Asari was merely staring at her, appearing as a blue statue, neither moving nor speaking.

The Commander let out a sigh, saying, "Look, Samara… I-I'm—"

"No," Samara cut her short, shaking her head, "do not apologize, Shepard. Sorrow and anger can be concealed within oneself for only so long."

Shepard nodded, turning her gaze from the Justicar to the floor.

Samara casually stepped further into the room, letting the automatic system seal the door behind her. Her eyes scanned the Commander from head to toe. "You carry your burdens silently, masking frustrations and hesitations with calm and collective contemplation. On our previous mission to stop the Collectors, I saw it then, and I am seeing it now."

She paused to see if the woman had a response. Seeing none coming, she continued, "Life is about give and take, and sometimes it decides to take more than to give. In my past, there were many incidents involving the loss of innocents that I could prevent, yet inevitably there were some that I could not, even though the Code compels to save them. I have felt what you feel this very instance many times.

"I have lost much in my centuries, and I have found no one for comfort. We carry these hardships by ourselves, for that is what leaders do. The best consolation I can give to you now is not much, but…" Samara glanced to the side with a thoughtful expression, "You would make a fine Justicar, Shepard."

The Commander brought her fist up to her face and lightly bit down on her forefinger. Those words meant more than they appeared. In Asari culture, that would be deemed as the greatest compliment one could ever receive. Samara would never say such a thing so lightly; her services as a Justicar and the Code she had sworn to uphold were her life.

Shepard examined Samara from the corner of her eye. For the first time since their initial meeting, she felt vulnerable and weak, as if she could break down right then and there in front of this Asari. She refused to look at Samara directly as she blurted out, "I… T-thank you, Samara." Her voice was cracking from holding her emotions at bay. "I appreciate it…"

Samara merely nodded with a soft and understanding smile forming on her face. "I will take my leave of you now, Shepard, and leave you with your thoughts." Slowly turning about, she walked out of the room toward the elevator and the door closed behind her.

Shepard's back slid down the side of the desk to the cold floor, and she brought her legs up to her chest. Resting her chin on her knee, she peered into the blue glowing fish tank with her moist green eyes. Deep down, she knew that she had carried out the mission appropriately. She had prioritized like any other Commander would have. Garrus had been the leader of the second assault team, and he had known the risks—all of them had! The sacrifice of soldiers was a small price to pay for the survival of all life in the galaxy.

The Commander slowly closed her eyes and ran her hand through her dark auburn hair. The excuses of the lessons and training instilled into her from the N7 program weren't enough. These weren't ordinary soldiers that could be written off as mere casualties of war.

Out of all the things that were rattling in her mind, a distinct Turian voice pierced through. His voice had sounded so calm midst the chaos of the battlefield. He had known death was forthcoming, yet he had been composed as if it had occurred many times before in his life. _"Go…Shepard…"_

"_No! We'll get around to the other side and flank them!"_

"_They're coming in too fast, Shepard…"_

"_We'll be able to give you enough time to get to the shuttle."_

"_The mission comes first…"_

"_I'm not leaving anyone behind!"_

"_Shepard…"_

"_No, Garrus!"_

"_You know why we're doing this… It may be the only way of stopping the Reapers for good."_

"_My team matters more than a damn alien artifact!"_

"_You have to go."_

"_I-"_

"_Enora… Go…"_

Shepard took a sudden deep breath to steady herself out of the intense memory. Covering her ears tightly with her hands, she buried her face into her knees. "Damn it…"

They ultimately had completed what they had set out to do. However, the immediate loss of the mission outweighed the future gain that would come of it.

The lost would never return.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

_I wanted to portray the gravity of the situation that you're sure to be facing in Mass Effect 3. I have the feeling that if you make one slip up in the decisions to come, whether they're minor or major, that there will be hell to pay. You won't be able to take back what you say or do. Also, I wanted to portray Shepard as more than a mere elite soldier that never looks back on her choices. I tried to make her more - for the lack of a better word - 'human' in this. After all that she's been through (especially with the Sole Survivor background), she wouldn't be all "sunshine and bunnies." Like any other, she would have issues, and she would have to deal with it in her own way because of her own position as a leader._

_And, the one person that could comfort her in this is gone. *huggles Garrus*_

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this. I hope the dialogue sounds natural enough for each character._


End file.
